


Looking Forward

by closemyeyesandleap



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, AvaLance, Canon-Typical Violent Imagery, F/F, Sara Lance's Demons, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-22 20:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19992784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closemyeyesandleap/pseuds/closemyeyesandleap
Summary: “How did I get so lucky, Dad?” Sara whispered, the white fabric of her dress fluttering in the breeze as her eyes remained fixed on Ava.Quentin didn’t answer.Sara tore her gaze away from Ava’s eyes. “Dad?” she exclaimed in horror.





	Looking Forward

_Thump, th-thump, th-thump, th-thump._

Sara took a deep breath. She could hear the beating of her heart more than she could feel it. A hand reached around her body, rubbing her left arm.

“You look beautiful, baby.”

She blinked and looked up into her father’s face. He was clean-shaven for once, his face free of the normal grime and sweat that usually bore witness to his work as a cop. 

Sara gave him a soft smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

Music began to sound from outside the fluttering curtain in front of them, first soft, then swelling. Ever so often a ray of sunlight evaded the curtain and caressed Sara’s face.

Quentin sniffed and squeezed her arm one more time. “You ready, honey?” 

Sara’s eyes fell for moment. She took in the white dress she was wearing—tight lace sleeves with a plunging neckline, a corset-like front that gave way to waves and waves of light fabric fluttering down her legs. 

She nodded, her heart in her throat—for once, lost for words.

Quentin gently guided her out, into a wooded clearing. Tuffs of white fabric blew in the breeze from the bows, like clouds lost in the brilliant green of spring. 

Sara and Quentin walked slowly, following the path of the dark-haired flower girl tossing rose petals.

The petals fell at the feet of the rows of people gathered to watch. From the corner of her eye, Sara caught a glance of her mother’s gleaming face, Rory’s grimace at his uncomfortable tie that he hid behind a beer, Ray’s childlike grin, Zari and Charlie bent together, whispering and giggling, Nate’s cheers, John’s carefully-contrived slouch, Jax bouncing a tuxedoed toddler on his lap, Oliver and Felicity trying to settle their child as they smiled at the proceedings, Thea by their side, Gary shooting photos from his phone like a proud parent, and at the front, a beaming Laurel dressed in delicate green on one side and a fidgeting Nora in the same outfit on the other, and between the two women—

Ava.

Despite Sara’s years of League training and the mental fortitude to withstand torture, days alone at sea, and fights to the death, at the sight of her bride, she suddenly didn’t know how she would make it all the way down the aisle. Her knees grew weak. She glanced at her shoes before raising her gaze to meet Ava’s.

Ava’s eyes were wide with wonderment as they took in Sara. Neither could blink as they drew slowly closer. Ava wore a black jumpsuit that complimented her height and her figure, her hair pulled back to one side by an intricate array of crystals. 

“How did I get so lucky, Dad?” Sara whispered, the white fabric of her dress fluttering in the breeze as her eyes remained fixed on Ava.

Quentin didn’t answer.

Sara tore her gaze away from Ava’s eyes. “Dad?” she exclaimed in horror. 

“B- baby,” Quentin gasped as blood leaked out of the side of his mouth. He collapsed on the ground, blood from a growing wound in his chest staining the soft gold of the carpet below.

The flower girl kept walking, unperturbed, coating the aisle with rose petals. 

Sara’s head shot from left to right in panic. Baby Mia started wailing. Her screams pierced the peace of the clearing. Sara was paralyzed as she saw Felicity collapse into Oliver.

“Who’s there?” she gasped, spinning from side to side, arms raised.

“Captain, I trusted you, ple…” Zari gasped as she staggered to Sara’s side, passing the still-calm child throwing petals, before Zari too collapsed.

“Sara!” Laurel screamed. 

“No!” Sara turned to run to her sister, but her legs wouldn’t obey her. She watched as green became red and Laurel crumpled. 

The flower girl stopped her phantom procession. She turned to face Sara, her hands clutching a basket filled not with petals but with bones. “You killed them,” hissed the child in a thick Guyanese accent.

Sara staggered backwards. Her head spun from side to side as she surveyed the devastation among the wedding guests. Suddenly, a whizzing sound pulled her attention from the carnage.

An arrow drifted through the air as if in slow motion.

_No._

No!

The arrow struck Ava in her chest, slightly to the left of center—a perfect kill shot. Sara couldn’t breathe. Her head swiveled toward the origin point of the arrow. A flash of black and red, a feminine figure, met her eyes before disappearing between the trees.

 _Nyssa?_

In a second she was upon the figure. She grabbed the assailant by the collar. “Nyssa, why?!” she howled, spinning the woman around.

Sara staggered back as her eyes were met, not with the dark orbs she expected, but with light ones.

She blinked in horror at the site of her own freckled face, her own hands clutching the quiver that had fired the kill shot into the heart she so loved.

“Surprised to see me, Sara?” her mirror image sneered. “This is who you are, after all. You are death.” The figure gestured at the bodies around the clearing. “And they will never escape you.”

Sara collapsed on the ground, her chest heaving. “Laurel? Dad? Ava? Ava!” her words dissolved into screeches of agony. “No!” Her body shook from side to side, driven by an otherworldly force. “No!” 

“Sara!” 

Sara’s body convulsed as she jerked awake. Her head shot from left to right before she fell into the pillows. 

“Babe, come here.” Ava pulled Sara into her arms. “You were screaming.”

Sara stared at Ava, forcing her pounding heart to calm as she took in every inch of Ava’s wide, concerned, and very alive eyes. 

“Sara, what did you see?” Ava asked, pulling Sara closer to her. When Sara didn’t answer, she brushed hair out of Sara’s face. 

Sara shook her head. “It was nothing.” She gave Ava a smile. “Same old, same old, you know.” 

Ava nodded, not quite believing Sara, but not wanting to press. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.” 

Sara squeezed Ava’s hand. “Sorry I woke you up. It’s a big day tomorrow. Go back to sleep.” 

Ava rolled so she was hovering over Sara, her face inches from Sara’s. “It’s _our_ big day.” Their lips met in a kiss, one mixed with the musk of the night and the salty residue of Sara’s tears.

Sara closed her eyes and pretended to sleep as she listened to Ava’s breath grow increasingly regular. Once she was sure that Ava was asleep, she opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, watching the flickering lights from the street dance on the ceiling until dawn split the horizon.

* * *

“Wow.”

Sara turned, her dress whooshing around her ankles as she did so. 

“You look beautiful, baby,” Quentin said as he pulled his daughter into his arms. “Damn.”

He blinked at his daughter, at a loss for words.

“I didn’t think—after I lost you, I would’ve given anything to have this moment. To get to walk you down the aisle? I dreamed about it when you were a little girl but then,” his voice grew thick as a ghost of a sniffle interrupted his speech. “And now you’re so alive, and marrying someone who makes you so happy. Ava’s a fine woman, Sara.”

Sara nodded and sank deeper into his embrace, allowing herself to retreat for just a moment into the little girl she once was.

“You okay, Sara?” Quentin asked as Sara lingered in the hug. His brow furrowed in worry.

“Fine, Dad,” she replied softly. 

“You sure?”

Sara averted her eyes.

“Talk to me, baby. Look, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, okay? I know I said all that, but if you and Ava don’t want marriage, then—”

“Of course I still want to marry Ava, Dad. I’m just… missing Laurel, I guess,” Sara finished, feeling a jolt of guilt in her gut at using Laurel as an excuse for her anxiety.

Quentin nodded with mist in his eyes. “I miss her too, Sara. I’d give anything for her to be here, too. But she’d be so proud of you.” He gave her a kiss on her forehead. “Just like I am.” 

“May I borrow her for a second?”

Sara turned in her dad’s arms. Ava stood at the edge of the tent, fully dressed and just as breathtaking as in her dream. 

“Of course. I’ll be outside, baby.” Quentin gave Sara a final squeeze before retreating from the tent.

Sara chuckled. “Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride before the wedding? And since we’re both the bride, that’s like double the bad luck, right?”

“Screw luck.” Ava strode up to her. “I needed to make sure you were okay.”

Sara twisted a lock of Ava’s hair between her fingers. “I’m marrying Ava Sharpe. How could I not be?”

“You tell me, Sara. I know you. You don’t look okay.” She bit her lip. “Are you having cold feet? I know that marriage was overwhelming to you. I wouldn’t blame you if––”

“Ava,” Sara said, staring deeply into her fiancée’s eyes. “My heart wants nothing more than to marry you.” 

“But you’re still having doubts.”

Ava seemed to have stopped breathing.

“Not about us!” At Ava’s flash of fear, Sara added, “Not about you, either. About… me.”

“Okay,” Ava began slowly.

“I don’t deserve this, Ava,” Sara confessed. “After all that I’ve done? I just feel like tying you to me is going to put you in danger, somehow.”

“I’ve told you! I don’t care about what you’ve done. All I care about it who you are now, what we have together.” Ava paused. “Is this about your nightmare last night?”

Sara shrugged.

“Sara, talk to me. What’s bringing this on?”

“Last night,” Sara began, staring Ava in the eyes, “I dreamt about this. This wedding. I was so happy, Ava. I could hardly breathe. I’d never been happier. Everything was perfect. _Laurel_ was there.”

“So what changed, Sara?”

“What changed? Everyone died. I walked down the aisle, and my dad started bleeding out, and Laurel died—again—and Ava, you died. You died!” Her gaze hardened. “And I was the one who did it. I killed you.”

“Oh, Sara.” Ava pulled Sara close. “That wasn’t you. It was just a dream.” 

“A dream based in reality.”

“You planning on killing me?” Ava asked, holding Sara out in front of her, one eyebrow raised.

“Of course not, Ava. But I could. And I have… I’ve killed those that others have loved.” The face of the Guyanese child flashed through her mind. “I don’t deserve this happiness. Not after everything.”

“Do I?” Ava said softly. 

“What?” 

“Do I deserve this happiness? I’ve found a girl I love more than the world, who makes me smile and laugh and who brings such goodness into the world, this crazy woman who defeated the forces of evil with a giant Beebo, who taught me that no matter where I came from or how I was… was… _made_ that I could still live and be happy. Do I deserve that, Sara?”

Sara blinked. “Of course you do, Ava.”

“You’re that girl, babe. It’s you. No matter what demons you have, no matter what you’ve done, you are good. You deserve happiness. We deserve this happiness.” She clutched Sara’s hands.

When Sara didn’t respond, Ava knelt on one knee. Her expensive dark jumpsuit was surely getting scuffed on the tent floor, but she hardly cared. “So Sara Lance, my love, will you do me the honor of marrying me? Today? Here? Now?”

Sara choked back tears and stared at Ava. “It would be my honor, Director Sharpe,” Sara finally replied with smiling eyes, pulling Ava to her feet and into her embrace. Their lips met in yet another salty kiss. 

“Good,” Ava whispered, pressing her forehead to Sara’s. “See you at the altar.”

She pressed her lips to Sara’s for a brief moment before retreating from the tent.

* * *

The curtain fluttered in front of Sara and Quentin. “You ready, honey?”

Sara bit her lip as dejá vu washed over her. She pushed back the anxiety. “It can’t happen soon enough.”

The two emerged into the clearing. The soft sun washed over them both. 

“Your sister would be so proud of you,” Quentin repeated in a whisper. Sara nodded as her gaze fell on the rows of people—those she loved gathered to see her joined with the one who most she adored.

And then her eyes fell on Ava, and all of the fear washed away in the light of her fiancée’s loving gaze, pulling her forward with her eyes into a brighter life.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I originally was like "I should write a tooth-rotting fluff Avalance wedding!" and by the next day this was what I was writing. Alas, I cannot escape the angst.
> 
> (Note: I stopped watching Arrow after Sara went to Legends so any Arrow references aren't particularly based on canon.)
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts.


End file.
